


Tonton

by nebulaesailor



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Autism, Canon Non-Binary Character, Found Family, Gen, Non-Verbal Frisk (Undertale), Parent Mettaton (Undertale), Parent-Child Relationship, Trans Male Character, an au where monsters and humans had always coexisted, kinda ooc mettaton i guess, mettaton as daddaton, mettaton will fucking kill you if you hurt or insult his darling child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulaesailor/pseuds/nebulaesailor
Summary: An AU where Mettaton adopts Frisk a la Annie style and is best most doting parent ever.





	1. Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired by all the mettamom stuff floating around and thought it was cute. I intend this to be a small side project to OMAM.

In your hands, you held a pair of garden scissors you stole from the horticulture teacher’s desk. You walk through the beautiful rows of roses, flowers that you helped nurture and grow with a pair of loving green hands. This is where you spent your recesses and spare time at; amongst flowers which were stand ins for friends. The other kids thought you were weird so they don’t bother interacting with you, after all what conversations could you have with the nonverbal retard? 

Not that you minded; the flowers didn’t talk behind your back and make fun of you. It was also quiet which was a benefit, the other children were as loud as they were mean. It was the one place you felt safe in without your dad being there to act as the mediator between you and outside world. You wished you could be with him at all times but school was a must so you went.

This was why you were even here; a pair of stolen scissors in your hands as you gazed upon your kingdom in search for the best of your crop to make a bouquet with. You linger at the apricot roses, your fingers thumbing at the soft petals. They are your favorite color of the entire batch but you knew what colors would appeal more to your father as they were his signature colors. 

The bright magenta ones on the next bush reminded you of the chrome finish of his metal exterior; his favorite color which was also the color of your house, his car, the most of the linens and towels, this brand logo, and really anything associated with him. Your hands then move to the dark purple roses, color of his eyes and also the bruises the other kids would sometimes leave on your body. The same bruises he would kiss with his silicon lips and put Hello Kitty bandaids on before threatening to sue the hell out of the other parents and school through you beg him not to. 

You find the black roses a few rows over which are as black as a raven’s feather and the color of his “hair”. They reminded you of that song he would sing to you when you couldn’t sleep, the one about a black parade which he called “an absolute banger”. The last roses and the centerpiece of the bouquet; the signature red roses you, Uncle Blooky, and Auntie Alphie give him after every performance.

You gather them together in a bunch and carry them into the art room, pulling out some cream colored tissue paper and wrapping them up. Your fingers are pricked and bloodied by the thorns that you haven't cared to use gloves to protect yourself from them. The blood on your fingers leaves tiny red droplets on the white paper but you ignore it as you sloppily tie a pink silk ribbon around the bouquet in a bow. 

The school bell rings as you scramble back to Mrs. Dreemurr’s room so you can give her the flowers to put in water on her desk so they stay fresh until the end of the school day. As you sit at your desk in the front of the class, you try to patch up your fingers as well as you could with the box of neon colored band aids you had hidden in your desk. Your eyes glance over to the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes until you could see your dad again.

\--------------------------------

You wait with Mrs. Dreemurr on the steps of the school, clutching the bouquet of flowers to your chest. He was running late. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you now, after all he was a very busy famous celebrity but you still couldn’t help but be a little upset when you were the last kid waiting to be picked up. It wasn’t until a ridiculous pink sparkly convertible pulled into the parking lot that you could find it within yourself to smile as a tall metal man in a designer red suit got out with a cellphone pressed to his ear. You are already running as he quickly ends the call and shoves his smartphone into his bag, squatting as he holds his arm out wide to catch you. 

“Darling, oh how I missed you~!” He shouts as he dramatically scoops you and swirls you around, your small body is smooshed against his chest as he holds you in a crushing embrace.

“Tonton…” You mutter to him as you hold out the bouquet to him, he releases you as you are perched in the crook his right arm while he takes the bouquet from your hands.

“Oh Frisk, you made this for me?” He says, placing a hand to his cheek in mock surprise as he examines your handiwork with a careful eye.

_ “Please look at the card. I worked even harder on that.” Y _ ou sign as he takes the slip of paper tucked into the bow of the ribbon out and reads it despite your nearly illegible handwriting.

_ Dear Tonton, _

_ It has been a whole year since you adopted me. I know at first it was just so you could look good in front of the press but it was still really nice being out of the orphanage. However, you still grew to love and take care of me like a real dad and became the best family I have ever known. I just want you know that I am very very grateful for what you have done for me by becoming my dad. I didn’t know what I get you to show that because you have everything you could ever want so I grew you some roses in Horticulture class. I know they are your favorite flower and I tried to grow them in your favorite colors. Anyways, I love you and I really glad you are my dad.  _

_ -Your darling Frisk _

“OH FRISK!! MY DARLING DARLING FRISK!!!” He exclaims as he pulls you into another crushing embrace as you feel big wet tears fall on your head. 

“Tonton?” You ask as you look up from his chest and see a giant grin split across his face, hysterical synthetic tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I love you too, darling. God, you are way too good to me, Frisk.” He dabs his eyes with handkerchief as you rest your head against his chest, just trying to linger in it.

“I need to press these when we get home so they last forever.” He said as you look up at him in confusion as your head falls back again.

_ Press? _ You sign to him in confusion as he smiles as he places you in the front seat of the convertible and sit down in the driver’s side, turning the key in the ignition.

“Yes, pressing the flowers, dear. You place them between two book so they become flat and dry, that way they will last for years instead of a few weeks.” He said as he pulled out of the parking lot and into the street, you making an oh-sound with your lips.

_ So you are keeping the _ flowers? You ask as he looks back at you and pats you on the head.

“I will keep them until I die.” He said as he turned his eyes back on the road as you scrunch up your brow in confusion

_ But I thought you can’t die?  _ You tried to piece together the metaphor as you always been a very literal person.

“Exactly, dear. Exactly.”


	2. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a sore throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling like dog shit so have a sickfic.

You wring your hands together, lingering outside your father’s door. Your throats burns from your swollen tonsils and you find yourself feeling achy and gross, even the act of swallowing is painful. But you don’t want to bother him; he was already so swamped with work, the last thing he needed to do was worry about you. So you curl up next to the door, covering yourself in a fleece blanket hoping that just being this close to him will be enough to comfort you.

But it doesn’t work. 

A few fat tears roll down your cheeks as you stifle back the sobs starting to bubble up in your throat. The pain was too intense to ignore and brush off. You painfully wheeze as more tears fall and have nothing left to do but lightly knock on his door. It creaks opens to reveal a disheveled and very tired Mettaton in his dressing gown and pajamas. His expression quickly shifts from an irritated scowl to a concerned frown as he kneels down to your level to wipe away the tears from your eyes.

“What’s wrong, darling? Why are you crying and interrupting my beauty sleep instead of being fast asleep in your own bed, hm?” He asks you, you quickly avert his gaze and pull at the hem of your nightgown.

“Frisk, I need to know what is wrong so I can fix it. Please stop playing with your gown and tell me why you are up so late.” He places a finger under your chin, turns it up so you are looking at him instead of staring at your feet. 

_ Tonton, it hurts. It hurt really really bad.  _ You sign as more tears roll down your cheeks and he lets out a sigh and wraps his arms around your shaking form.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” He asks you as he lifts you up and lets your head rest on his shoulder, rubbing big slow circles into your back to calm you down.

_ Everywhere, but mostly my throat and chest.  _ You gesture at the affected areas as he clicks his tongue and presses a metal hand to your forehead.

“Exactly 101.5. You really are sick, dear.” He says as you drape yourself back over his shoulder, he descends the stairs while you sullenly look down at the ground.

He walks into the kitchen as you are transferred from his shoulder to his hip, you watch him search around in the cupboards for your favorite mug (the one with the alpacas) and places it down the counter. Then he turns to the Deluxe Coffee Master 3000 and puts some of the freshly boiled warm water in the mug before rummaging through his tea stash and dropping a tea bag in the mug. You watch as he adds the lemon and honey before sitting you on the counter and placing the mug in your hands. Scrunching up your nose in disgust, you try to push the mug back in his hands.

“Frisk, my darling, you need to drink the tea. It’ll make your throat feel better and everything else that’s bother you. Trust me, dear; it’ll do wonders.” He tells as he covers his large metal hands with your tiny clammy ones, lifting the mug to your lips so you would take a sip.

Reluctantly, you swallow some of the herbal tea which makes you sigh in relief as it instantly soothes your aching throat. Mettaton runs a hand through your sweaty hair and presses a kiss on your crown as you down more of the tea. When the mug is mostly empty, you are lifted back up as Mettaton carries you back to your room to put you back to bed. You let out a sharp whine which makes he stop in his tracks to look down at your flushed face, he grumbles in irritation and glares down at you for your belligerence. 

“Why are you being fussy now? Hm? You need to go to bed. No ifs, ands, or buts. I’m serious, Frisk.” He seemed to have shifted into serious mode, his tone no longer melodic and cavalier but flat and angry.

_ I wanna sleep with you. You always make me feel better.  _ You sign at him as he gives you a watery trying not to cry smile and walks you back towards his room. 

He deposits you on bed, you watched with glassy tired eyes as he shrugs off the dressing gown and lies down under the silk covers. Mettaton plugs his charger into the port on his side, lifting you and placing on his chest which instantly heats up like a thermal blanket once you lay your head back down. The duvet is pulled over your head as he enelops you in his arms and starts to drift off before you tap on the cheek so he would stay awake. 

“Frisk, my dearest loveliest child, go the fuck to sleep. I’m begging you as both your father and another living thing to please just close your eyes and sleep. Please.” He begs you, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice anymore.

_ Just sing to me please. One song then I will sleep.  _ You bat your eyelashes at him and give him your best puppy dog eyes. Of course he gives in.

“One song only.” He holds up one finger as you giggle and kiss him on the cheek, which makes stifle a shrill scream of glee.

_ Can you sing Feed The Birds?  _ You sign as he lets out a snort and starts to tap the beat out on your back.

“ _ Early each day to the steps of St. Paul's _ _   
_ _ The little old bird woman comes _ _   
_ _ In her own special way to the people she calls _ _   
_ __ "Come, buy my bags full of crumbs."

Though his voice is loud and what others might call grating, when he sings it truly is one of the most prettiest things you ever heard. It has a certain sweetness to it that nobody seems to detect besides you, a tender vulnerability that seems to deeply contrast the person it belonged to unless you knew to look past the gravitas and arrogance.

_ “ Come feed the little birds, show them you care _ _   
_ _ And you'll be glad if you do _ _   
_ _ Their young ones are hungry, their nests are so bare _ _   
_ __ All it takes is tuppence from you” 

You feel your eyelids start to droop as his hand contained to rub circles in your back. They flutter when you try to fight them to stay open.

_ “Feed the birds, tuppence a bag _ _   
_ _ Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag” _

You stop fighting them and they close shut with little resistance from you. It’s not like you needed your eyes to hear him sing.

_ "Feed the birds," that's what she cries _ _   
_ _ While overhead, her birds fill the skies _ _   
_ _ All around the cathedral the saints and apostles _ _   
_ _ Look down as she sells her wares _ _   
_ _ Although you can't see it, you know they are smiling _ _   
_ __ Each time someone shows that he cares”

His voice becomes farther away as you start to drift into sleep. Your aching body feels so much heavier as you can’t even find it within yourself to move your fingers.

“ _ Though her words are simple and few _ _   
_ _ Listen, listen, she's calling to you: _ _   
_ _ "Feed the birds, tuppence a bag _ _   
_ __ Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag."   
  


He finishes his song as finally feel the tendrils of sleep pull you under. Mettaton gives you another kiss on the crown of your head and mutters something you can hardly make out.

“I love you, my darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mettaton knows every classic disney song by heart.


	3. babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgerpants babysits and you don't know how to feel about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burgerpants is #relateable. I too am suffering from the burden of capitalism and depression. Big Mood.

Your hand reaches out and grabs onto the fabric of your father’s pantsuit, tears start to roll down your cheeks as he lifts you and let’s you nessle yourself in the crook of his arm. He runs a hand through the braids in your hair to calm you down but quickly draws his attention away from you when the doorbell rings. He paces over to the door to open it to reveal a gross pimply teenager in a flannel and holey jeans, you hear him snort in disapproval but leads him into the house regardless. 

“You’re Burgerpants, right? You look nothing like your picture on Craigslist, honestly I was expect someone a little less greasy.” Mettaton berates the teenager as you lift your head of his shoulder to get a better look of the boy.

“Well, sir, I have alot of experience babysitting my siblings and really need the extra money this gig brings in so I can pay for film school. Flipping burgers doesn’t pay that much, you know.” The cat boy nervously smiles at your father as if he was going to devour him whole, through Mettaton raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the mention of film school.

“Oh, so the little boy has ambition? Well, I suppose you have to start somewhere. Fine, I will let you watch my darling if you follow all my rules to a T.” He narrows his eyes as he leads Burgerpants to the fridge which had a detailed set notes written on it in a with a pink glitter pen.

Burgerpants glances down at the list, trying study it like it was the answers to a test he forgotten to study for the night before. You squint to read it to but there isn’t that much you hadn’t known before.

_Frisk Babysitting Guidelines_

  * __No sugary snacks or junk food. Snacks must be on the pre-approved list or whatever is prepared in the fridge.__


  * _Whatever Frisk wants you to do, you will do it. My little darling must not be bored and I will personally hold you accountable if they said you refused to play with them._


  * _Frisk cannot watch anything that is not on the approved list of channels or movie. If they watch a disney movie, you must sing the songs along with them._


  * _They must have their homework done before they are allowed to watch TV or play on their handheld. The answers must be checked by you and if you don’t know, call their Auntie Alphys whose number should be on the emergency contact list I gave you._


  * _No swearing! If I hear any vulgar language coming out of my star’s mouth, I will personally mount your head on my wall._


  * _My cousin Napstablook lives with us so don’t be shock if you see a ghost phasing through walls. Be nice, he’s very sensitive._


  * _On the occasion I am late getting home, Frisk must be in bed by 9:00 PM sharp. This is after they have brushed their teeth and have been read a bedtime story. The bedtime story is a must and so is a kiss on the forehead._



Burgerpants furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the list as if it was ancient greek. Your father turns and walks to the door setting you on your feet as you reach out to him to keep holding you. He kneels down to your height and give you a tight hug, kissing both of your cheeks before he glares down at Burgerpants with the intensity of a mother bear.

“If there is a single hair out of place on their head, **I WILL KILL YOU.** And that is not a metaphor, I was originally created as a killer robot and I will use every weapon at my disposal if my baby is hurt in anyway.” Mettaton’s smile grew big and sadistic as he dragged one finger across his throat.

“Tonton loves you, Frisk! Be good for this cat-boy-man-thing and I will bring you home a surprise! Bye-bye!” Your father waved as he climbed into the car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving you alone with your weird babysitter.

“So what do you wanna do, little weirdo?” Burgerpants asked you as he leaned down to your height, you scrunch your face up in a scowl at the nickname.

 _Mouthbreather._ You sign at him as you kick him in the shin and run off, he holds back a swear while he clutches his leg in pain.

You really didn’t like your new babysitter.

\---------------------------------

You open the screen door to the backyard, Burgerpants is smoking a cigarette while he leans against the house. Your footsteps on the wooden patio alerts him of your presence which makes him let out an irritated sigh. Pulling at his hoodie so he would give you attention, he glares down at you as he takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke out like a chimney. The smell of the tobacco makes you crinkle your nose in disgust and sneeze, Burgerpants hands you a crumpled up tissue from his pocket so you can wipe the snot from your face.

 _My dad says smoking is bad and gives you cancer._ You sign at him which makes him snort and take another drag, a crooked smile breaking onto his acne ridden face.

“I mean your dad is right, but that still ain’t stopping me. We all gotta die sometime, little weirdo, I’m just speeding up the process.” He replies with a dark chuckle, tapping the ash off of the cigarette into an empty Altoids box serving as a makeshift ashtray.

 _Why would you want to speed up dying? Wouldn’t that make your family sad if you got sick and died of cancer?_ You question him, your brow scrunched up in a concerned look as you glance at him with naive curious eyes.

“Huh, I never really thought about it that way. I’ve never really been that happy not even when I should be. I’m just kinda sad all the time. The sadness never really seems to go away, and maybe that’s why I don’t really mind dying young. Won’t be missing much.” His nonchalant grin dropped into a straight line once he was forced to consider the connotations of his words, closing his eyes as he took an ever longer drag of cigarette.

 _Why aren’t you happy?_ You ask, the concept of not being able to be happy is foreign to you and a little over your head.

“You sure ask alot of questions for a kid that can’t talk. I have Depression; it’s a disease that makes it so you’re unable to feel happiness. It makes you feel empty and tired all the time even if you sleep alot. It also makes the things you do like seem boring and pointless.” He stared off into space, sputtering smoke through his mouth like a broken machine as his cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the ground.

 _My uncle gets really sad like that too sometimes. When that happens, Me and Tonton will lay down on the floor with him and feel like garbage together. My dad said before he became corporal, he would get so sad about his ghost body that he couldn’t get out of bed. Now that Auntie Alphie made him his robot body, he doesn’t get sad anymore._ You tell Burgerpants as he blankly looks at you before rubbing his eyes and plucked the burnt out cigarette from the ground.

“It’s different for me, I guess. I think that maybe if I do something of importance or become somebody worthy of living; it might make me less depressed. I feel pretty damn useless right now, like I’m a leech on the butt of life.” He deposits the cigarette butt into the Altoid tin and sticks it in the pocket of his jeans.

You glance back at him in concern as he looked so miserable just standing in the cold dusk air, his self loathing as thick as the smoke he had been blowing out off his semi-functional lungs. Your hand reaches for his paw which you’re expecting him to move away but instead takes ahold of yours. His heavily bagged eyes look down at you, letting out a hollow chuckle as he rubbed his stinging eyes with his other paw.

 _I don’t think you’re useless. My dad wouldn’t have chosen anybody to be my babysitter; he must’ve saw something worthwhile in you to even trust you to be near me._ You try to comfort him though it’s hard for you, the only thing coming to mind was the fact that Mettaton had an eye for seeing the potential in people.

“Huh…” His reddened eyes flicker back to the dusty pink sky as the last remnants of the sun dip below Mt. Ebott, his paw squeezing your hand.

“Well, this has gotten way too touchy-feely for me. It’s getting pretty cold out here and feeling emotions makes me hungry. We should go inside, little buddy.” He opens the screen door and pulls you along as he shuts it behind him, his nonchalant grin back on his face. 

“Let’s see what your dad left in the fridge for dinner…” He says outloud, still holding your hand as he opens the fridge to find two dishes side by side with a sticky note attached to one.

_For dinner I have made a mushroom and cauliflower quiche which I have put a lot hard work and love into. Please help yourself to the corporal version of the dish on the left as the ghost version on the right is for dear Blooky who can’t eat corporal food. Frisk must eat at least one slice of the quiche (that means the vegetables too as they will eat around those) before having desert._

__-Love, Tonton_ _

“Oh, your dad left a quiche. You want it ‘cause it has veggies in it and I know kids hate that kinda stuff with a passion. “ He asks you as you scrunch your face up in disgust at the thought of eating the Worst Vegetable. 

_I want pizza._ You tell him as he nods in agreement and pulls out his phone to call the local pizza place for delivery.

“Same here, little buddy. I think I might actually die if I ate a vegetable, like my body can’t even process healthy food anymore. What kinda pizza do you want?” Burgerpants asks you as he has the cell to his ear and is picking dirt out from his crusty fingernails.

 _Hawaiian._ He gives you a disturbed look before rolling his eyes and ordering a half anchovy and hawaiian pizza.

“You really are a little weirdo. Who eats pineapple on a pizza?” He looks at you as if you said you ate live kittens before making his way over to the couch to collapse down on.

 _You are the one who ordered anchovies, mouthbreather._ You counter back as you nestle into his side which makes him groan in irritation but do nothing about it.

“Fair enough. By the way, how do you make ghost food?” He looks under his arm at you for an answer though all you can do is stare at him like he was an idiot.

 _You make food and then you kill it. Duh._ You answer him, his brows quickly furrowing together in confusion with an expression on his face which one might have on if they were solving a calculus equation. 

“What?”

\-----------------------------------

You are dozing with your head resting in Burgerpants’s lap while the movie you were watching was playing the background. There are smudges of chocolate on the corners of your mouth from the candy that you bought at the local corner store by the arm full which you know that your father would flip out about if he knew the sheer amount of garbage you had consumed in his absence. Sleep was soon to come as it was at least an hour and a half past your bedtime which was another rule you both intentionally broken. It was fun breaking the rules, you guys were being punk! That’s what burgerpants said you were being.

But being punk has made you tired and all you really wanted to do was sleep. From far away you could hear a key turning in the lock as the familiar sound of high heeled boots clicking on the hardwood floor became louder the closer they got to you. Your eyes flutter open as Burgerpants lightly jostles you awake, quickly trying to scrub away the stains on your mouth before Mettaton can notice.

“Darling, I’m home. It looks like someone is up way past their bedtime…” Your father keeps his voice soft as he lifts you from the couch and allows you to drape yourself over his shoulder, you notice how he narrowed his perfectly winged eyes at Burgerpants at the mention of you being up way later than you should be.

“They couldn’t sleep without knowing you got home safe. I made sure they got dressed and brushed their teeth before they waited with me for you to get back.” Burgerpants lies through his teeth, a nervous smile inches onto his face.

“Uh huh...Well thanks for watching my little star, Burgershorts. I decided to give you a little extra because I was late coming home and Frisk seems rather smitten with you.” Mettaton reaches into his wallet and pulls out a hundred dollar bill, giving it to Burgerpants who is left sputtering for air.

“Uhhhhh...damn….wow...Thank you….” He struggles to get any words out of his mouth as he stares at the bill in his hands as if it had several more zeros attached in the back.

“It’s nothing really, I pay the maids more to clean the toilets. Time for bed, Frisky dear. Tonton is low on battery and really needs to charge.” He waves Burgerpants off as he turns his back on your babysitter to ascend the stairs to your rooms.

You sleeplily smile and wave back at your new friend who shoves the paper bill in his jean pocket and slings his backpack over his shoulder to leave. He smiles and waves back, walking down the hall and towards the door before turning around to face.

 _You’re pretty badass, little buddy. See ya later._ He signs at you before closing the door behind him, leaving you beaming from ear to ear.

You change your mind, you loved your new babysitter. He was badass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton allows Frisk to watch way too much Stranger Things.


	4. meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you get into a fight at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frisk is more clearly autistic in this. fite me.

Your father’s voice is loud. You can hear it even though your hands are tightly covering your ears instead of pressing the bag of ice to your bruised eye. He’s yelling at the administrators of the school through you have consciously made the decisions to block out the words being said. You felt as if you were suspended in Jello, the world around you seemed muffled and distorted while your mind acted as if it was asleep. It was a defense mechanism, or at least that what your therapist said it was.

Mettaton turns his back on them, instead walking towards you as you sat in the principal’s office. His face switches from rage to concern to rage again upon seeing your bruised and bloody face. He kneels down in front of you and tries to get your attention, gathering your beaten face in his cool metal hands so you would look at him. He says some words you can’t make out as the tears start spill from your eyes like a leaky faucet. You feel his arms wrap around you and tightly holds you to his chest, lifting you off the ground like a rag doll. 

“Mr. Blook, you need to fill out the-” The secretary was cut off by a sharp glare from Mettaton who radiated a killer intent so strong that you swore he was going to straight start shooting lasers from his eyes.

“Don’t talk to me! If I hadn’t made it clear already, I am removing my child from this rotten school because it seems y’all won’t do jack when the little cretins at this school mercilessly bully them but are suddenly very concerned about the “No Tolerance Policy” when they defend themselves. You will be hearing from my attorney.” He doesn’t scream this time but instead keeps his voice low and dripping with venom. 

The door to the office is ripped off its hinges as he walks out, your tears endlessly soaking into his nice suit which makes you cry even harder. You wail as you can tell he’s disappointed. He shouldn’t have adopted such a rotten defective child like you. Your fingers are tangled in your hair as you pull and scream; your hand balls into a fist as you start to punch yourself in the head. You are stupid. Very very stupid.

“Frisk, stop it! Stop hurting yourself!” Mettaton raises his voice and is forced to restrain your arms; you kick and scream even louder which draws the attention of the kids in the classrooms who are peering out at you through open doors.

You just remember him tightly holding you, restraining you almost as he briskly walks out of the school and into the parking lot. He sits down on bench in the courtyard, his tight embrace never leaving you as he allows you vent even if that meant sitting through your screaming. The exhaustion hits you like a freight train, you again go limp like a rag doll as you can only whimper and take shaky breaths while he rubs your back. 

“Let’s go to the car, darling.” Mettaton says softly as he carries you to the car and places you in your car seat in the front. 

He pulls one of your favorite chews out of his bag, the pink bat one to give you something to stim with. You hang it around your neck and start to gnaw on it, your left hand holding his as you rock. You can hear him turn the ignition in the car as you pull out of the parking lot to somewhere else. You don’t want to talk about. You really really don’t. He doesn’t force you to like others would, he used to but now he understands.

Mettaton keeps his eyes on the road, occasionally squeezing your hand to let you know he was still there. The car pulls into the parking lot of a Ben & Jerry’s, you look up at him in disbelief as your father never let you have sweets unless it was on a special occasion. But all Mettaton does is smile and tap his lips with his index finger while you let out a sharp screech in excitement. You practically burst through the doors though Mettaton makes sure you are holding his hand while crossing the parking lot.

You are happily rocking back on your feet as you walk through the line, you both knew exactly what you wanted. His arms wrap around your shoulder, swaying to and fro. He knew you were particularly clingy and tactile after meltdowns and was more than happy to dish out the affection. You fall back on his legs and look up at him as he bends down and nuzzle your nose against his which makes you giggle even through there is still dried blood crusted under your nostrils.

“I love you, my darling. I love you very very very much. Don’t you ever think I don’t.” He tells you, kissing your forehead with his silicone lips.

_ I love you too, Tonton.  _ You sign back as he squeals in glee and tightly hugs you around the waist. 

“Sir, your affection for your child is extremely endearing but can you order please? You’re holding up the line.” The cashier asks while Mettaton shoots another death look, going back to coddling you.

“I want one small scoop of the Berry Berry Extraordinary in the chocolate sprinkle dipped cone with no toppings and a small Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz scoop in a plain waffle cone. I want that order exactly with no deviations or I will make you redo it.” Mettaton said flatly, not bothering to look up from you.

“Okay, sir.” He hands you your cones as you start racing for the table in front of the big window, Mettaton scrambling after you. 

Both you and your father eat your ice cream in comfortable silence, you make a mess as always which you know will mean Mettaton forcely scrubbing your face clean in the bathroom afterwards. You halfheartedly wipe off your mouth at look over at him as he daintily licks the cone. His eyes flicker to yours as you smile at him to show your appreciation but frown when you had to ask the question worming around in your mind.

_ Where am I going to go to school?  _ You ask tentatively as his face drops and he’s left to consider the ramifications of taking you out school. 

“I suppose you will be homeschooled until I can find a proper school you, darling. I don’t think Alphie would mind tutoring you in math and science with me and Blooky take over for the humanities. It’s only temporary but I think it will do.” He says trying to throw together some satisfactory answer but coming up short.

_ Okay. What are we going to do after this?  _ You try to change the subject as neither one of you want to think about the future.

“We will do what we always do when things like this happen. We order take out and watch 00’s era Disney Channel movies.” He sighs as you beam at him as you know he won’t force you to eat a vegetable.

_ Can we order Japanese?  _ You beg as he rolls his eyes and nods.

“It’s better than pizza I suppose. I might as well invite Alphys over as well. The Disney Channel movie marathon might have to change to a Ghibli marathon but oh well.” He shrugs as he finishes off his cones and grimaces at your grimmy sprinkle encrusted face. 

“Ew, Frisk. Go to the bathroom and wait for me. You eat like a deranged hog for God’s sake.” He points at the restroom door which makes you blow him a raspberry as he shoots up from the table and starts to chase after you.

Your dad was the coolest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep beep toot toot mettadad is best dad.

**Author's Note:**

> The only verbal word Frisk can say is Tonton which they only ever say to Mettaton which he is extremely smug about.


End file.
